


Seal It With A Bedspring Kiss

by stepquietly



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Crack, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Language, I really am sorry, I'm Sorry, M/M, Mpreg, So Wrong It's Right, pillowbabies, technically it is mattresspreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 02:57:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stepquietly/pseuds/stepquietly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is what happens when two badass hockey players fuck when one of them is turned into a fucking bed. Motherfucking pinstripe pillows.</p><p>(Or the Kaner is a Mattress crack!fic.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seal It With A Bedspring Kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bessyboo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bessyboo/gifts).



> stepquietly: Tazer doesn't have to chose between best friend and warm bed  
> In some ways, he's a lucky man.  
> This is perhaps the most appealing AU I have ever written.  
> AND I let Kaner keep the bulge in his top layer, if you know what I'm saying.
> 
> Bessyboo: no plz
> 
> \--
> 
> This entire fic was inspired by the stupid ESPN article that talked about how Tazer and Kaner had fights that were all pillow-fighting and bed-punching (link at the end). Somehow that turned into me trolling [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/bessyboo/profile)[](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/bessyboo/)**bessyboo** with the chat!fic version of this. And then that turned into me somehow trolling myself by fleshing it out into super serious and dramatic crack!fic. I don't even know!
> 
> Bess alternately wept and cheered me through this, and then went on to beta it. She's pretty awesome, for all that she lead me to inflict this horror upon you all. 
> 
> Additional thanks to [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/Celli/profile)[**Celli**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/Celli/) and [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/derryderrydown/profile)[](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/derryderrydown/)**derryderrydown** for suffering through the chat transcript. Celli even bought her own Pinstripes. Financial wiz, y'all!

The first night Patrick moves into his new house, he and Jonny fuck on the floor because the sofa isn’t big enough for the both of them and he hasn’t quite gotten around to buying a bed yet.

Jonny gripes and groans about what this is doing to his back and Patrick being too much of an asshole to sort his shit out before inviting guests over, which, fuck that shit. Jonny can suck it up and put out this once while Patrick finds shit he actually wants for his place rather than whatever the hell IKEA has on display.

Besides, it’s not like Patrick doesn’t _want_ a bed – he does, really – but he hasn’t seen one he likes enough yet. He’s happy enough to sack out on the ratty-ass futon Sharpy brought over for the moment, so it’s really not like he’s missing out on that much. And he’s getting loads done in the meantime; he bought a decent fucking sofa and four wide-screen TVs for each room so he doesn’t ever have to miss whatever the fuck games are on.

“It’s just priorities, man, shut the fuck up,” he insists when Jonny brings up for the one millionth time that Patrick is screwing with his delicate sensibilities by not decorating his whole house like Martha fucking Stewart.

“Kaner,” Jonny says, holding the bridge of his nose like this whole conversation is some sort of penance rather than the aftermath of Patrick having rocked his world, “if I’d wanted to fuck my back up on a shitty fucking futon that I had to help drag out onto some asshole’s balcony, I’d have stayed in college and kept messing around with TJ.”

“Hey!” Patrick feels compelled to object, “Broshie’s shithole apartment hasn’t got a damn thing on my place.”

“Yes, Kaner. Because that’s exactly what this whole conversation was about.” Jonny rolls over onto his side and half-shoves Patrick off the futon.

“Fuck you, numbnuts!” Patrick can’t believe he shares his futon and his cock with this loser. He shoves Jonny back and flops back so he can stare at the sky. “Hey look,” he laughs a second later, “a shooting star.” He elbows Jonny. “Hey princess, since you’re all fucking prissy, you wanna make a wish?”

“I can wish my fist was in your face, Kaner,” Jonny warns, still turned away. “You don’t want me to make that come true.”

“Aww, come on, Tazer, make a wish! You can wish for anything you want,” Patrick teases.

“Then I wish for a fucking bed and that you’d fucking shut up,” Jonny grumbles. “Now go the fuck to sleep, asshole.”

“Your wish is my command, fuckface,” Patrick mutters, and turns away onto his own side.

* * *

 

When Patrick wakes up, Jonny’s gone as usual. Asshole loves his morning workout and Patrick figures that he’d probably better get up and out the damn door as well if he’s gonna try and get any shit done today.

He’s shambling about into the spare room where he keeps the boxes of his shit that he hasn’t unpacked yet, trying to figure out which of the millions of boxes marked clothes might actually have clean clothes in them, when there’s a weird tingling sensation in his extremities.

“Fuck that futon,” he mutters, and tries shaking his arms and legs a little to get the blood going again, but the tingling just gets weird and worse, and suddenly Patrick really _can’t breathe_ , is fucking _falling_ , and then –

* * *

 

When he wakes up, the room is silent and he’s lying on his back staring up at the ceiling. He can hear the door slam and Jonny tramp in calling his name, and he thinks about stretching and getting up to go answer Jonny but... he can’t.

What the fuck?!

Jonny’s thumping about outside like herd of freaking elephants and Patrick’s suddenly really fucking scared because he can’t move, _he can’t move_ , shit shit shit _fuck_!

And then Jonny’s got his head in the room and Patrick’s really fucking relieved because Jonny’s gonna sort this out, he’ll know what the fuck to do about the fact that Patrick seems to have paralysed himself in the spare room. And when Jonny’s sorted this shit out and Patrick can move again, he’s gonna take that fucking futon outside and light the fucker up and then call the first shitty decorator he can find to get a decent mattress in here. He’ll even let Jonny try his weak-ass chirps if he has to, but this shit has got to get sorted out first.

He’s still waiting, hopeful, when Jonny comes fully into the room _and fucking sits on his legs_!

“Not bad,” Jonny mutters, “though that douche should really have mentioned that he already bought an ugly-ass bed last night.” He smoothes a hand down Patrick’s front. “ _Kaner_!” he yells, “Kaner, you asshole, I’ve seen your fucking ugly bed. Your fucked-up headboard has fucking curls on it. _Kaner_!”

Patrick doesn’t know what the hell is going on, but Jonny’s totally lost it. What bed? What ugly headboard?

But all of his thoughts are brought to a standstill when Jonny bounces experimentally a couple of times right on Patrick’s fucking legs, and then shifts up so he’s sitting _right on Patrick’s fucking face, what the fuck_?!

“It would figure that asshole would put the only bed he bought in the spare room,” he hears Jonny mutter, and then Patrick…

Patrick is maybe having a revelation.

Because maybe Patrick is the fucking ugly-ass curly bed.

Because this whole thing seems really nonsensical but Jonny just kicked his ugly shoes off so he could settle more comfortably onto Patrick’s face, and that would be going pretty fucking far for a prank.

So.

So. Patrick’s a bed now. Right.

Jonny’s sitting on his _face_.

 _Fuck_.

Eventually Patrick stops panicking. Turns out it’s pretty much impossible to suffocate or hyperventilate when you’re a bed, and Patrick doesn’t know when that fucking piece of information is ever going to come in handy again but fuck it, it’s all Patrick can think of right now so it’s… whatever.

To be fair, his attention is pretty divided. There’s a whole bunch of him freaking out and shrieking and wishing really hard that this is a dream, and then there’s the part of him that’s really super aware that Jonny’s ass is on his bed-face or whatever. Patrick’s been wanting to do shit like this for a really fucking long time, but he’s been gently wooing Jonny like the priss-ass virginal maiden he is, all refusing to put out if Patrick doesn’t use his goddamn P’s and Q’s, so he’s been building to it.

He’s trying to figure out if he can maybe rub a bit against Jonny’s ass or use some sort of bed-code or whatever to get Tazer to take his fuck-ugly shorts off and put his bare ass on the damn mattress when Jonny yawns and shifts around and slides downwards and right over Patrick’s half-hard dick.

Patrick is really, _really_ into that except Jonny fucking grumbles about how Patrick can’t buy a fucking decent mattress and its shitty lumps just before punching Patrick _right in the fucking bed-balls_!

And it might not actually hurt or whatever, but it’s automatic for Patrick to curl away from the punches. Because they’re his fucking balls, jeez!

And then suddenly Jonny is shrieking and fighting to get free, and Patrick realizes that he moved! His edges moved! He manages to curl enough to touch Jonny, and Patrick flaps his edges frantically and tries to catch Jonny, but the fucker is wiggly like a fucking eel.

Jonny is screaming about horror movies and fucking killing it with fire and peeling out of there, and at another time Patrick would be weeping with laughter about how high Jonny’s voice can get. But right now Patrick is trying really freaking hard to get Jonny’s attention and is thumping his bedframe as hard as he can against the fucking walls because fuck resale values; if Tazer lights him up, Patrick’s fucking _dead_.

In a last ditch effort, Patrick thumps out three long and three short taps like a fucking boy scout because what the hell, man, Jonny was a giant perfect Canadian bot-boy. If he doesn’t fucking know Morse Code, then Patrick will lose whatever tiny-ass bit of faith he has in the piss-poor Canadian system of education.

It takes a while – and Patrick’s pretty sure he’s fucked the walls up in this place for sure – but Jonny comes back in, wary and holding a hockey stick like he’d love to beat Patrick’s bed-brains out. Jonny’s hair is spiked up unevenly and his stare is even more furiously dead-eyed than usual, and Patrick finds that he’s curling the edges of his mattress protectively already because fuck, he knows that look.

There’s a long pause before Jonny mutters, “S.O.S., right?”

Hah, Patrick fucking called it!

He waves the edge of his mattress, and Jonny edges away a bit but looks determined. “Okay,” he calls out, all authoritative captain’s voice, “who the fuck are you?”

Patrick… waves his mattress edge.

Jonny narrows his eyes and Patrick feels the urge to cover his bed-nuts again, but really, there isn’t any way for him to communicate with Jonny. The whole three long three short is the only part of Morse Code he actually knows and that’s from all his stupid late nights marathoning Law and Order.

Jonny must realize this as well because he sighs and lowers the hockey stick. “Fine. We’ll keep it simple. Right side for yes, left for no. That clear enough?”

Patrick raises the right edge of his mattress.

“Right. Where’s Kaner?” Jonny demands.

Patrick tries to shrug but just ends up thumping the wall again. Man, whoever is in the next apartment over must think Patrick’s a fucking sex god right now. Well, that and want to blow out his brains. But who the fuck cares really, because _Patrick’s a fucking bed_.

Jonny pinches his nose. “Right. Fuck. Simple questions. Okay, are you haunting Kaner?”

Patrick slow-raises the left edge of his mattress as sarcastically as he feels is possible.

Jonny looks like a sneaking suspicion is coming over him. “Is Kaner in the room right now?”

Patrick wiggles the right edge of his mattress.

Jonny sighs and crosses his arms. “Kaner –”

He pauses, seemingly lost for words, and Patrick grabs his fucking chance and raises the right edge of his mattress as high as he fucking can.

Jonny looks murderous. “Kaner,” he repeats, voice deadpan, and Patrick wiggles his mattress edge sheepishly, glad to have finally managed to accomplish that.

Jonny takes a deep breath like it’s killing him to have to say this shit. “Kaner,” he mutters, “are you a fucking bed?”

And what else can Kaner do? He raises his edges and thumps the fucking wall because it damn well took Jonny long enough, the asshole.

Jonny glares like the plan to set Patrick on fire is still totally on, and then turns on his heel and leaves.

* * *

 

Patrick finds there isn’t much that he can do in a situation like this. It’s either zone out or sleep or imagine porn because fucking Tazer left. And the fucknut hadn’t even done the kind thing and turned Patrick’s TV on so he didn’t die of freaking boredom.

He might be feeling a little resentful, though he figures it’s perfectly warranted given that Jonny fucking fucked off and _left him here like this_. The two of them have been messing around long enough for Patrick to have some basic expectations, right, and Tazer just fucking reneged after Patrick had done everything but buy him bullshit frou-frou flowers.

Patrick’s angry enough to thump the wall a couple more times and fling his mattress about a bit, but in the end, it’s not doing anything but leaving him feeling really weird and like his stomach is sitting on his knees.

He can’t even have a damn temper tantrum without mussing his sheets and getting all rumpled up, and Patrick is really freaking sick of this whole situation.

Eventually he falls asleep, curling his edges into himself sorrowfully.

* * *

 

When Patrick eventually wakes up, there’s a warm weight spread out along the length of him. He can smell Jonny’s hair and his cheap-ass bodywash, and Patrick stretches out and feels the movement re-adjust the weight so that Jonny mumbles and turns over onto him.

And that’s when Patrick remembers that he’s a bed and that Jonny is a fucking giant dickbag, and whips his mattress up and thumps against the walls and fucking _throws_ Tazer off himself.

“ _Motherfucker_ ,” Jonny yowls from the floor, “Kaner, what the fuck?”

Patrick twitches the ends of his mattress angrily, further untucking his sheets. Jonny scowls at that and tucks them back in.

Vengefully, Patrick shoves himself about so the sheets come completely loose, and Tazer gives him the sort of pissed off look that makes Patrick wants to punch his stupid head in. If lifting the edges of his mattress wasn’t so damn hard, Jonny would totally be finding out how hard a fucking king-size mattress can land on him.

“Quit it,” Jonny snaps, “I needed some time, okay? I mean, Jesus, Kaner. _You turned into a fucking bed_!” He shoves Patrick’s mattress straight again so it aligns with the bedframe. Patrick resolutely doesn’t think about how that feels way better now.

He stays still though, doesn’t move to dislodge his mattress again. He even lets Jonny tuck all his sheets back in, smoothing Patrick’s loose edges and running a hand down the clean line of his sheets. Fuck’s sake, Jonny even fluffs Patrick’s pillows, and that’s the fucking weirdest feeling he’s ever had to deal with.

It occurs to Patrick that Jonny might actually be apologizing here, in his own ridiculous emotionally-constipated manner. Which… man. Yeah, okay. Patrick can see how this is fucked. Jonny looks tired and pissed off. And sad. Fuck.

He curls one corner of his mattress so the pillow on the edge tumbles forward against the other, trying to make his surface look as inviting as possible.

Tazer just looks at him sceptically, eyebrows raised.

Patrick tries to hold still and look enticingly soft.

Eventually Jonny sighs, but takes the bait and lays down over him, lets Patrick curl his edges protectively around him while he sleeps.

* * *

 

Two fucking days later, Patrick’s going out of his mind with boredom. Jonny’s told the team that Patrick’s out sick with the plague or something, so no one’s been round to figure out that whatever the fuck Patrick does have, it’s way worse. But this means that Jonny’s out doing shit with the team while Patrick is stuck at home trying to figure out what the hell half these soaps and sitcoms are trying to do, and the other half feeling desperately like he’d like to scratch his nose, wherever that might be.

The only plus point to the whole mattress situation is that Jonny’s finally spending entire nights. The whole sleeping together thing is working out okay, even when Jonny chirps him about how he needs to calm his mattress boner so it doesn't fuck Jonny's back and make him walk funny. Patrick wishes so much he could really run with that admission, but he’s still a fucking bed so whatever.

He does retaliate, however, by waiting until Tazer’s asleep one night to vibrate his surface. It’s just like humming and Patrick’s through half of ‘Lady Marmalade’ when Jonny groans and starts grinding his hips into Patrick’s lump, and…

… It feels good.

Patrick can’t stop himself from vibrating and trying to shove himself forward and up, into Jonny’s sleepy, jerky thrusts. Jonny’s moaning and Patrick wishes, really wishes he could kiss him, but he fucking can’t, and it’s almost frustrating enough to make him want to stop. Except for the way Jonny opens his mouth and groans, sleepily pushes his boxers down and fucking grinds into Patrick, long, hard strokes turning short, and then eventually tapering into tiny, jerky thrusts as he comes too quick, like the selfish fucker he is.

And then the asshole just rolls over, out of the wet spot. And Patrick’s in the fucking wet spot because, well, the fucking wet spot is on him, _what the actual fuck_.

The come is actually seeping through his sheets. Kaner feels wet and sort of gross but given how Tazer’s dicktastic sex moves didn’t even involve waking up long enough to see if he _could_ potentially make it good for Patrick, he isn’t really holding out hope for a clean up any time soon.

* * *

 

Patrick loses track of time after that, though eventually he notices that he’s feeling really weird. Bulgy and gassy and sort of like he ate a fuckload of cheeseburgers and needs to take a fucking massive shit. There’s an odd sensation of having to shove and readjust and pushing, and Patrick kind of wishes Jonny would wake. The. Fuck. Up.

There’s a weird tearing sensation down near the foot of his mattress, and Kaner can feel something happening but there isn’t enough room to move. It feels like his ass and his feet and his fucking dick hurt, and he’s worried that he might’ve maybe torn himself trying to somehow take a mattress dump or something.

He jostles his edges until Jonny blearily pushes up and shoves him back straight, grumbling, “Kaner, fuck off,” and turning over.

But Patrick’s actually nervous enough to shove ‘til Jonny falls off his side.

“ _Goddamn motherfucking cocksucking piece of shit_!”

Kaner waits until Jonny’s head appears over his edge, eyes bleary and serial-killer stare in place, to wiggle his lower end.

Jonny groans and shifts to the base of Kaner’s body to check out whatever the heck it was that felt so odd.

His face is really pissed off when he peers back up over the edge. “Kaner, _are you fucking kidding me_? You’ve gone and _ripped a giant hole in yourself, you fuckhead_!” He tosses three tiny throw pillows up onto the bed, and leans back down so he can examine Patrick’s hole better.

Patrick isn’t listening though, because he’s having what some might call “a moment.”

Because there’s three fucking tiny-ass throwpillows on him and he can feel that they’re his. His and Jonny’s. What with the curly golden tassels on the one, and the fucking hideous uneven suede fringe on the other just like Jonny’s sad-ass excuse for a playoff beard, it’s pretty obvious. Though the third one… the third one is a muted grey pinstripe, tight edges and fluffed self-importantly, and Patrick wants to laugh because there’s a fucking rebel in every family and this is what happens when two badass hockey players fuck when one of them is turned into a fucking bed. Motherfucking pinstripe pillows.

It just fucking makes sense.

Patrick cuddles them to him as much as he can, curls his edges in protectively and tries to hold them steady, while Tazer slams around his house and yells about trying to find a damn stapler.

When he eventually slams back in and starts to staple Patrick’s edges shut, Patrick tries to wiggles his ends at him, show him their kids, but Tazer’s having none of it. He finishes stapling Patrick’s – ass, maybe? – back together and tosses the stapler over onto the boxes, and then slumps down so he’s splayed out over the length of Patrick’s body, face buried in their pillow-babies so his voice is muffled when he mutters, “I can’t do this much longer, Kaner. You’ve got to fucking turn back.”

And Patrick wishes so much that he could. Wants so badly to be able to move and talk and fucking play hockey and arrange his kids in a freaking straight line, but he’s stuck as a fucking mattress. The most he can do is hold Tazer. And he does, folds his edges in like a love burrito and snuggles his family.

“You’re fucking smothering me, motherfucker,” Jonny gripes.

* * *

 

It’s practically dawn when Jonny turns over and whispers into the stillness of the room, “Fuck you if you ever tell anyone about this, Kaner, but you’re not the worst fucking mattress a guy could own.”

And while Patrick is reeling from that – because what the fuck sort of statement of affection is that – Jonny leans over and plants a quick, soft kiss right on Patrick’s headboard.

And the weird tingles or whatever are back suddenly, and Patrick’s really afraid because he’s got Jonny on him now, and his weird-ass pillow-kids or whatever.

He’s trying to curl his edges to hold them in but they’re slipping out over the tops of his arms and hitting him in the face, and Jonny’s getting really, _really_ heavy, the fat-ass, except hold the fucking phone because Pat has fucking _fingers_ and _toes_ and a _really_ achey fucking ass, but he’s _good_. He’s _back_. He’s shoving Jonny off him so he can kiss that fucker’s face because _yeah_. Yeah.

It’s what he’s been wanting to do for a really long time.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Epilogue as the chat that came after all of this (FEATURING PINSTRIPES, YO!): 
> 
> stepquietly: Tazer and Kaner raise their throw pillows at home  
> Where they're stored in the spare room at Kaner's.  
> Because Tazer can't have sex with them around and so they can't go on the sofa or the fucking bed, Kaner!  
> And Kaner thinks that room makes the best nursery anyway  
> Someday, that fringe pillow is going to come into all its fringe
> 
> Bessyboo: oh lord
> 
> stepquietly: And Kaner will cry #soproud  
> And his sisters will bead that fringe lovingly  
> And the pinstripe pillow will never go with anything  
> And it'll get sent to live in the office by itself
> 
> Bessyboo: D: THAT'S AWFUL
> 
> stepquietly: It's okay.  
> Pinstripes likes the office!  
> It keeps its corners sharp, and likes to hang with the accountants and the agents
> 
> Bessyboo: .............................
> 
> stepquietly: Plus, this way it doesn't have to deal with being squished out of its neat creases.  
> AND it learns a lot about 401Ks  
> Pinstripe pillow ain't just a layabout  
> It got plans, yo
> 
> Bessyboo: oh my god
> 
> stepquietly: Someday, someone magical is gonna come over and hang  
> And Pinstripes is gonna tell them all about its genius plan to transfer over some of the non primary holdings into a high-yield short-term bonds  
> And then they will grant him life
> 
> Bessyboo: ......................
> 
> stepquietly: And Tazer and he will have an awkward but warm relationship, and Kaner will insist on fluffing his edges, whoops, his hair.
> 
> Bessyboo: oh my god
> 
> stepquietly: Tazer/Kaner bed punching pillow fights  
> Which they never have anymore because you know, the kids.
> 
> Bessyboo: i have made a terrible mistake.gif
> 
> stepquietly: You love me  
> Don't lie  
> I can sense it all the way in your part of the world -  
> The sobbing love you feel for me.
> 
> Bessyboo: sobbing SOMETHING
> 
> LATER: 
> 
> derryderrydown: PINSTRIPES
> 
> stepquietly: PINSTRIPES GOT PLANS, YO
> 
> derryderrydown: PINSTRIPES GONNA INVEST WISELY LIKE A MOFO
> 
> stepquietly: PINSTRIPES GONNA RUN THE WORLD, BE A WALL STREET BRO
> 
> derryderrydown: PINSTRIPES AIN'T GONNA FALL IN LOVE WITH SOME TOTALLY UNSUITABLE HOCKEY PLAYER- oops.
> 
> stepquietly: FORBIDDEN LOVE. HOW WILL PINSTRIPES EVER EXPLAIN HIS PARENTS? HIS CONCEPTION? HIS FLUFFY INNARDS?!!!  
> LIFE BE HARD.
> 
> The ESPN article that started it all: http://espn.go.com/nhl/story/_/page/maginterviewtoewskane/chicago-blackhawks-patrick-kane-jonathan-toews-nhl-odd-couple-espn-magazine
> 
> The complete original chat transcript: http://stepquietly.dreamwidth.org/6525.html#cutid1
> 
>  


End file.
